“You hosted a dinner… just to do this?” Julian rasped out, his hands shaking as he stared at the legal papers.
“No,” I replied, taking a slow sip of my water. “I hosted a dinner so that when I threw you out of my house, your family would be right here to pick up your trash.”
PART 3: THE STRIPPING OF THE HOUSE
“Get out,” my father said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying register as he stepped between me and Julian.
“Dad, listen to me—” Julian tried to argue.
“Do not call me Dad,” my father cut him off, stepping inches from Julian’s face. “You have five minutes to take your personal clothes and leave my daughter’s home before I physically throw you into the street.”
Julian looked desperately at his mother. “Mom! Tell them she’s overreacting! I made a mistake, but we can fix this!”
